Page 53 of The Rest is History
I tell her how I wound him up with my talk about the bites. How he came and stood over me and asked to see my neck. The look in his eyes as he ran his thumb over my skin.
I clear my throat and lower my voice. ‘Oh. And—there was one other thing. I asked him how his weekend was, and he said,all deadpan, that he’d given himself a repetitive strain injuryin his wrist.’
She gasps in a gratifyingly theatrical manner. Thank God I’m not the only one who’s found this information shocking.
‘He said that?’
I nod. ‘Yup.’
‘God, that’s very… hot. And also, brave? I wouldn’t have expected him to be that forward, from what you said.’
‘I know.’ I rake my hair back in frustration. ‘He’s such an odd guy. Such a cold fish, and then he comes out with something like that without so much as batting an eyelid. I can’t work him out.’
‘He definitely wants you.’
I consider. ‘He definitely did the other day, and he doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to act like that without having feelings of some sort. But he’s given me a pretty wide berth today, so it could be that he’s only interested when I’m in costume. The guy’s obsessed with Anne Boleyn—you should see his bookshelf at school. So maybe he was just acting out a fantasy.’
The more I allow myself to consider this explanation, the more I worry it’s true. He’s never been friendly to me at school. He’s only warmed up to me these past few Saturdays. And he’s completely different with me when I’m Anne and he’s Henry. It’s entirely likely he has some Tudor fetish, or he gets off on the role-play of being the king ‘conquering’ the woman who’s held off on him.
Yeah. That makes way too much sense for my liking.
I’m sauteing onions for dinner a bit later when the doorbell goes.
‘Got it!’ Grace shouts. She comes into the kitchen a moment later wearing anoh my Godexpression and holding up a little black bag.
‘It’s for you.’ She holds it out.
‘For me?’ I wipe my hands on the apron and venture closer. It saysNet à Porterin smart white font on the front. ‘I definitely didn’t buy anything from there.’
‘Just take a look.’ She shakes the little bag. ‘It’s so cute!’
‘Okay, okay.’ I look inside. There’s a wad of black tissue and a printed card. I pull out the card. It has my name and address on, and a message.
I thought this might hide the marks on your neck and showcase your eyes.
C.
CHAPTER 21
Charlie
I’m almost more nervous about seeing Elodie today than I was yesterday.
I know she got the blouse, because she sent me a long, excited WhatsApp to thank me and tell me it was completely unnecessary and too generous and that she’d never owned anything from Gucci before.
The last part made my heart hurt. Gucci should be so lucky to have a woman as stunningly beautiful as Elodie Peach wearing its brand. I wish I could dress her head to toe in it. I have my ex-sister-in-law, Stacey, to thank for the blouse. I texted her yesterday morning, my chair rammed tightly under my desk as I wrestled the hard-on that was threatening to punch through my trousers at seeing Elodie’s neck.
The marks of my teeth and lips on her skin.
The memory of devouring her on Saturday.
The taste of her skin. The sound of her moans as I unravelled her.
Holyfuck.
Best place to buy those silky women’s shirts with the long ties that wrap around the neck and tie in a big bow?
Pussy bow blouses?!! How very Harry Styles of you, sweetie. You’ll look fabulous!!! Only one option: Gucci. Great silks. Great colours. And Harry-approved xxxx
